All I see is a canvas, splashed with guilt, sin, and shame.
On it's written, you're a sinner, in a scorning jagged hand.
The sheet is stained, the edges torn, my record's there for all to see.
I'm an outcast, hopeless prisoner, Satan smiles his evil glee.
But then Jesus starts arranging, and the blackened space removes,
Three long nails, a crown of thorns; his blood drops down into the grooves.
He looks at me and says it's finished, go my daughter, sin no more,
I smile in wonder, my heart is broken, Jesus my Saviour, my King, my Lord.
~ Corrine Horst
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